


king & lionheart

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beautiful Orphans Who Can't Catch A Break, Director Coulson and his Director Troubles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Most You And Me Against The World Pairing Ever, Resolved Sexual Tension, Skye Protecting Coulson, Skye is a field agent, Unresolved Sexual Tension, not Grant Ward friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Agent Skye Saves Director Coulson's Sorry Ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	king & lionheart

**i.**

"As Director I have the right to know what's going on."

It comes out a bit harsher than he intended to, like everything these days. Skye takes it like that, harsh and authoritative, if not tyrannical, and she steps back and doubles the defiance in her gaze.

"I _really_ doubt that's one of your rights as _Director_. Specially since there's nothing going on."

"You're refusing a mission."

"I'm not refusing a mission," she explains. "Will everybody stop being so dramatic?"

He knows he doesn't have the right to be impatient with her. He hasn't been here in a week and he's kind of sprung this mission on everybody. And everybody is on edge. He is on edge.

So he tries again, making room for Skye's edginess.

"You've taken assignments like this one, with success." Checking that his voice sounds softer now.

Skye crosses her arms in front of her.

"With moderate success."

"With _complete_ success. Or you don't think I read the reports?"

She looks like she has a comeback for that, her lips part for a moment before she thinks better of it.

The walk across the room idly, following one another.

He knows about her accuracy, how dauntless she is on mission. He's watched her shoot. He's listened to May gush about her over and over.

That's not the point.

Coulson knows what this is all about, of course. He knew he'd have to battle May for this, but he wasn't expecting Skye to react negatively. He can normally count on her to support his decisions – even the terrible ones.

"It's because I'm on the field this time?" he asks her.

She gives him a look. "So you _do know_ what's going on."

"I has to be me, I have to make the exchange."

"But it doesn't have to be me behind the rifle."

"What does it matter?"

Skye sighs. He watches as something inside her lets go, surrenders. She walks back to his desk, leaning on it. Coulson follows, wanting to study her face closer. It's softer now, her expression more open. But there's something troubling there, something he couldn't see before through the anger and the challenge. There's fear. That's not like Skye at all.

"If I take the shot you could die," she admits.

It was just distress, he can see that now. She is not talking about shooting him by accident – they are using ICERs anyway. She's talking about missing and having the other guys put a bullet in his head.

"If you don't take the shot I could die," he argues.

"Exactly. That's why I don't want to be the one to pull the trigger." She notices his glance and shakes her head, wanting to coorect that. "Don't get me wrong, I love May and Trip and I would have their backs in a heartbeat. But with them I know I can make the tough calls. I'm not sure I can with you."

"I believe you can," Coulson assures her. "I think you're selling yourself short."

"I think _you_ are selling yourself short."

He smiles. "You know I appreciate that."

"Yeah."

He touches her elbow for a moment. He believes it's been ages since they've last touched.

"Skye... I don't feel unsafe in your hands," he tells her, trying to make her see thing from his perspective. He'd prefer her to be the one pulling the trigger. "I feel the opposite of unsafe. I trust you and I want you to trust yourself."

"You're willing to bet your life on that?"

"On you? Always."

 

+

 

To the sniper there's the distance. To those with perfectly accurate aim, there's the certainty. There's some comfort in knowing you _can't_ miss.

Skye doesn't have any of those things. She's never had them. Whatever confidence she's gained in her life, she's had to fake it first, wait for it to become the real things. There's no waiting on the field.

The distance. Yes, it's there. She's up here on the vantage point but there's no distance she can trust, down there are Coulson and May, waiting for her to take the shot.

The exchange indeed goes wrong – but she is quicker that the other guys.

She has to be.

She realizes this: because it's Coulson she has to be. Quicker and more accurate. She's without options. There's no possibility of failure. And for someone who knows as many forms of failure as Skye does the idea is comforting as it is terrifying.

Coulson and May look up towards where she has been watching over them, the sun in their eyes. 

"That wasn't so difficult. Was it?" he teases her, later, after some profuse (and possibly uncalled for) thanks for saving his life.

"No, that was like the hardest thing I've ever done," she says.

"Exactly."

With that smirk and that light in his gaze.

He's gone back to doing that, then. 

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, fine, Director."

He touches her elbow as they make it towards the van, the prisoners in tow, the rifle in Skye's hand.

 

**ii.**

"I think it's broken," he says, giving up.

She agrees.

She touches his ankle tentatively and Coulson makes a grimace of pain, Skye mutters a sympathetic apology. She looks around. The integrity of the building is compromised and she is frantically trying to figure out of a way of getting them to safety. They can't access the door.

"Coms went black, but May and Trip were on their way." We just need to get out of here, Skye thinks. She looks around, trying to come up with something.

"We were easy targets," Coulson says.

"We are always easy targets."

It's probably not fair, it's not his fault, not entirely, but the lack of back up and the lack of resources is wearing her down.

And now this.

"This is why you shouldn't be on the field," she points out, agreeing with May on the matter for the first time ever.

"I thought you could use the help."

She nods. This wasn't meant to be a dangerous mission (which is why she should have worried from the beginning, because this is how it normally goes, for them anyway) and yet here they are.

Here they are and Coulson makes a hollow, strained sound when she tries to prop him against the wall.

"Don't whine," she tells him, gently, a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Haven't you never broken a bone?"

Coulson looks at her through half-closed eyelids and a smirk of curiosity masking his discomfort.

"You?" he asks, looking down at the sorry state of his right foot.

"Collarbone. I was eight. Gina Tomlinson pushed me off a swing. My arm at sixteen, jumping off a fence." He looks up at her. "I know you like it when I tell you this stuff."

"Are you trying to make me forget about the pain?"

She can feel every muscle in her back tense up. "It's not the pain I'm worried about. It's getting out of here."

"Skye, I can't move. My ankle is– There's no way around it."

"I'll be the judge of that. So. Did you? Ever break a bone?"

"No."

"What a sheltered life, Director."

"I was sickly as a kid," Coulson tells her.

"Really? That doesn't sound like you."

"I was. Until I was sixteen or so. I was a late bloomer. Too weak to play with the other kids."

Maybe he knows she likes it when he tells her this stuff, too.

She smiles. "That's why you like Captain America."

He chuckles, looking away. Is he embarrassed? Skye suspect she's right. But she can hear the humming of the fire in some room down the hall and all her thoughts return to their situation. How to get out of here. How to get him out of here.

"I think the air duct is our best chance."

"There's no way I can get up there."

"Let's try it."

They try. Coulson is heavy and solid when she tries to prop him up to the ceiling. It's no use. Skye can taste the danger in her mouth. They don't have much time. They try again. She can feel his heart beating fast when she holds him, one hand over his chest and the other in the small of his back.

"You need to leave," Coulson tells her, being completely predictable.

Sweat trickles down her neck. As if she would even consider it.

"Yeah that's not happening."

"Skye–"

"Would you leave me here, if our roles were reversed?"

He stares at her.

It's a good thing he doesn't even attempt to lie.

"Then we need to find another way," he says.

Skye gives him a resolved nod. "Then we will."

 

+

 

He wakes up in the infirmary. Something hurts under his eyelids until he realizes it's just light.

"The painkillers," Skye explains, noticing his face.

Skye is here. Standing right next to the examination table he's in. He's not sure he remembers what happened, a throbbing pain in his head. He can feel the presence of Skye through it all, even the parts that won't come back to him, the parts that make his brain ache.

"What happened?" he asks her.

"You passed out from the pain."

"I... I did?" 

Skye nods.

"Right after we found the other exit. I dragged you out of the building and took cover on the bushes while I waited for the team to arrive."

Bits of it come back now. Landing on his bad foot in the stairwell. Being carried out by her hands. Barely making it out of the spreading fire. The mark of a small burn on Skye's cheek tells him part of the story.

"Thanks, agent," he says and she beams, proud of her accomplishment.

He feels numb. But also heavy. He looks at his foot. A cast. Fuck, that's going to take some time to recover from. He doesn't have time. Time is what he doesn't have. He has a job to do, that's all.

"You are going to be out of circulation for a while," she points at his leg.

"I figured that already."

She gives him a comforting smile. Coulson is thinking it might not be an entirely bad thing, if he gets a break, even a forced one.

"I guess I'll tell Billy to cancel your flight tonight."

"You could go instead," he says, trying to sound casual because he knows how she will take it.

Skye steps back a bit.

"What are you saying?"

It's not an idea he hasn't had before. And to be honest he's been looking for a chance to put it in practice, or an excuse. But he's always felt that he had to do everything alone, from day one of this. He's beginning to think he might not have fucked up so badly, if he had let other people help. He can start fixing that right now.

"It's an easy one," he says. "California. A couple of kids who were in the Academy when HYDRA attacked, good scientists, now taking up their fourth or fifth PhDs. I was just going to make an offer, see if they are SHIELD material. Nothing dangerous, nothing you can't handle."

Skye comes closer, leaning into him. "Coulson, I think the painkillers are impeding your good sense."

"All the recruitment files are in my main folder."

He doesn't hesitate.

Skye stares a him for a while, trying to determine the veracity of his offer.

"Do you mean that?" she finally asks.

"We need allies right now, Skye."

"But I–"

"I trust your judgement."

She gives him a small nod, running the tips of her fingers over the plaster on his leg.

"Thank you," she says.

"No. _Thank you_. You're the one doing me the favor."

He watches her bite her lower lip, reluctant.

"Well, then. You owe me one," she says.

"Yes."

"I expect to cash it in some day."

Coulson knows she is flirting, and it isn't the first time. Sometimes they relate to each other like this, and it doesn't mean anything. It's completely innocent.

"I look forward to it," he replies.

He knows he is flirting, and wonders how innocent it all really is.

 

**iii.**

"Is that for courage?" Skye asks, watching him take out the bottle of scotch he has in his third drawer.

"No," he says, pouring two glasses. "For the taste."

"We can't stay here," she tells him

"I realize."

"We're matched in number, I think we can take them."

He sinks into his chair.

"Coulson?"

She expects him to have something to say, some orders, to lead her. That's what leaders do. Be inspiring, or at least make their subordinates feel safer. He has nothing. Not today. Not after – 

"I was such a... fool," he says, not above some self-pity, if they are going to die in some minutes.

"You couldn't know what would happen," Skye says but he can tell even she doesn't believe it.

"Of course HYDRA was going to come for Ward, that was always the plan, and of course they were going to blow us to pieces in the process."

She hurries to his side.

"Hey, they haven't won yet. We're still here."

"I was so stupid," he repeats, running his fingers through his hair, going back to the man he was when he decided to keep a dangerous HYDRA murderer in a vault under everybody's feet. If he could say something to that stupid, stupid man, if he could stop all this before it started. "What was I thinking?"

Skye finally takes the glass of scotch in her hand, gives it a pensive look. Coulson can see how her fingers clutch her gun tighter for a moment, her knuckles a hint of white that dissolves before he can look too close. That's the thing about Skye – the weakest moments are always gone before anyone can look too close, she makes them disappear.

"Yes, it was pretty stupid of you to have him here," she says, taking a sip. No wonder, Coulson thinks. She must hate me, he thinks. "But he couldn't really be anywhere else."

She gives him a little supportive look, clear-eyed and trusting. Coulson doesn't understand the woman in front of him some times. Today of all days, with that monster running free around the base. And she's still the one trying to make things easier for Coulson.

They stay in silence some minutes, gathering strength – not courage, the scotch really was for the taste, Coulson is afraid of dying but not of fighting, and fighting by Skye's side is even easier – and checking their options.

"Ready, sir?" Skye asks, lifting him from his seat just by the way she poses the question.

Today she's his right hand.

Today – and every day – she puts her body between the Director of SHIELD and danger.

Yes. He's ready.

When they come out there's a HYDRA agent waiting for them but Skye takes him out, shooting over Coulson's shoulder before Coulson can even see the guy.

"You didn't hesitate," he points out, looking a bit stunned by how close the bullet passed, how loud the noise in his ear.

Skye gives him a defiant look.

"When it's your ass on the line? _I can't_."

 

+

 

She's cleaning up. They only _half_ -won this battle, but the bad guy got away. There's a lot of damage, but at least they didn't lose anyone. The office didn't take much of a hit and the bottle of scotch still remains on top of Coulson's desk, like an accusation.

"You don't have to do that," he tells her, watching from the door, as she picks up the glasses.

"What would people say, if they found out the valiant Director of SHIELD was sloshed during the base's last stand?"

"I wasn't –"

"Coulson, relax, I'm joking."

He walks across the room, all purpose but deliberatedly slow, moving towards her.

"What?" she asks, when he reaches her, because he is standing too close, more than usually, and studying her face with intensity, more than usually.

She is putting the bottle away but he stops her, placing his hand on hers. His hand is warm and bigger than it looks of maybe Skye just feels small for a moment. She realizes she's shaking a bit. When did that started? Not in battle. She was perfectly confident and calm throughout the whole thing. She wishes she still had her gun in her hand. Things were easier like that.

"I'm sorry," Coulson says, and it's not exactly despair, or hopelessness, just something very sad and self-reciminating.

"You don't –"

"He's out there," with an obvious note of disgust. "He's out there now and I couldn't stop it."

Skye is not about to pretend that Grant Ward free and unrestrained is not her worst nightmare. Coulson knows this. They don't talk much about it – there are things Coulson knows. The things Ward did to her. The things he said he would do. The horrific possibilites open now are there, in Coulson's worried voice, and sitting in the pitch of Skye's stomach.

She considers his hand over hers. She slips from under his touch, but only to properly hold his hand like she wants, fingers entwinned tightly, like a resolution. They always tread these waters, so one more time won't matter. She suspects one of these days one of them will hold on a little too tight and all this plausible denial won't be an option anymore.

"You once said to me: _we'll get him_ and we did," she tells him. Coulson looks up, a little too late, from where their hands are clasped together, to watch her face. "We'll do it again. We'll get him."

He nods slightly, that little nod Skye knows so well, knows it in herself, knows it as a thing between them she guesses no one else can see because sometimes she can barely see it. But it's there. It's always there. And it makes a difference – whether they can catch Ward or not, it makes a difference that he believes they will, that he _believes her_.

 

**iv.**

If she can get him to calm the hell down maybe she can get him out of here.

If she can get him to calm down.

"It's okay," she tells him. "You're not in danger. No one is coming for you. You just need to get out. You have time."

Listening to Coulson's labored breathing through coms is upsetting, it makes her feel powerless. She should have been with him, she should have protected him.

He shouldn't be in the field in the first place. And they shouldn't have let him get trapped like this.

The drugs Simmons is giving him to stabilize his condition make his moods somewhat unpredictable these days, and he is definitely not fit for combat, but they were desperate – " _We are too short on manpower_ " Skye can still hear him say when May opposed the decision. She can also hear him say, later, when she was alone with him, " _I'm not completely useless yet_ " in a way that broke Skye's heart.

"We are right outside the area and _you can_ get out of there, but we can't access the room you're in."

"I see."

"You're going to have to do the work, Director."

"I don't know, I'm trapped. I'm trapped here."

She doesn't know what "here" mean, exactly, by the tone of his voice. Skye has seen him go through all this; she's been there the nights of paranoia and panic. She's been there the really bad nights. The nights when he couldn't find his own self in the darkness of his mind and she was shut outside, could only watch.

She doesn't want to go back to that. Things are better now – but the memory of what he went through terrifies Skye. The possibility that those days might come back and she can do nothing to stop it.

"Skye?" she hears him plead from the other side of the line, like a lost child.

"I'm here. Talk to me."

" _Skye_."

"Don't freak out," she tells him. "Simmons said the drug reacts badly with tension or stress or..."

"Or fear?" he finishes.

"Well."

"I just – I'm having a little trouble getting up to reach the door, Skye."

"No worries, sir. I've got you."

"What if I lose grip, like I did when–"

"Don't think about that."

"I'm trying not to," he says, between his teeth. That's okay, anger is good, Skye thinks. Anger can give him the kick he needs. Anger means focus.

"Concentrate on what you have to do. Okay? How's the room? Can you reach the door easily?"

"Yes, the room – it's intact."

"What's the first step?"

There's a beat, like Coulson is thinking about it. He is about the quickest person Skye knows when it comes to those things. She doesn't like the pause.

"I'd have to get up," he says, like that's some superhuman task.

"Then get up." She hears his body slide against the wall. "Can you walk?"

"No."

"Are you hurt? Please tell me you're not hurt."

"I'm not hurt." Again with the gritted teeth and the sharp voice. "Skye, you're not listening to me. I can't."

She notices the way he keeps saying her name.

He definitely can do this.

"Don't be stubborn, of course you can."

"No."

She knows what that voice means, has used it herself many times. But he's wrong, he's not alone.

"Hey, I told you, I'm here with you," she says. "Well, not bodily but you know what I mean. We're in the same boat. I'm also fighting my own body to stay myself. Remember?"

"But you're brave," he says, not even whiningly. Just simply.

" _You are_ brave. Sometimes you forget because you spent a long time not acting like it, but you are. You can do this. Listen to me, Coulson. Listen to my voice. You are brave and wonderful and I love you."

There's a silence on the other end of the line.

She gets impatient. This is no moment for Coulson to get shy or in denial.

"Hey."

"That's a very strange calming technique, I have to tell you," he says her.

Skye can almost see him frown.

She realizes he can't see her shrug.

"It's not a technique but whatever," she waves it off. There'll be time later. "I need you to walk across the room, and look for the panel by the door."

"What? You're going to teach me how to hack it from over there?"

There's some humor in his voice and that is good, that is very good.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," she snorts. " _Hack it_. More like shortcircuit it, which you should already know how to do, you've done it a million times. I'm just trying to get you there."

"Okay, okay."

She can hear his breathing, the difficulty of it. He's still trapped inside his mind.

She softens her voice.

"You'll get out of here and I'll be waiting for you."

"Yes."

"Just – breathe. That is all."

"Okay."

"Breathe."

" _Okay_."

"Breathe."

"You think this is actually helping?" he asks. He seems more animated now, if only because he's annoyed, no longer gloomy and doomy. He has just gotten to the other side of a panic attack without realizing it. He probably doesn't even know what it looks like.

"Isn't it?" Skye asks.

A pause. "Actually..."

"Good. Can you walk to the door now?"

"I'll try, yes."

Fifteen minutes later he's back with the team, calm and safe.

 

+

 

Her mouth is hot when he pushes her against the door of the tactical van. Part of him still tastes like fear, like adrenaline and confined spaces which had never bothered him before. But that's just the aftertaste. He grabs her hips like a drowning man. He has been waiting for this longer than he realized, he melts into it, quite aware of the unbridled jolt of desire travelling through his body. He should be tired, exhausted, and frightened – but when Skye slides her demanding tongue into his mouth he realizes he's none of those things. Not anymore.

He can feel her whole body pressed against him, his chest pinning her to the vehicle, the shape of her breasts against his heartbeat. He wants to touch her everywhere. He pulls at her hair gently and he moans into her mouth. The rest doesn't matter. His illness, her origins, right now it can all go to hell.

Only Skye matters.

And she said she loved him.

She said he loved him.

Coulson never imagined –

He stops. 

They haven't even talked about it yet.

They haven't said a word, actually. Just looked at each other when he came back and – and _this_.

He pulls away, tearing his mouth from hers even as he makes a pained noise at the loss of contact.

"This is not... I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow, pitiless, unflinching, his beautiful unrelenting heroine.

"What exactly are you apologizing for?" she asks, gesturing between then, fingers pausing on his tie a moment, playful.

"For assuming things," he says. He looks down at his hands, still flattened against the curve of Skye's waist. He swears mentally, but still can't move them away. He has tried oh he has tried to move away, to stop what deep down he felt as inevitable – but not like a curse. "What you said back there..."

"Mm huh."

"You could have just said it to comfort me. To calm me down."

Her expression is still one of skeptical annoyance. Her shoulders press back against the van but she sways towards Coulson, impatient hips rocking against the unprofessional state of his own body.

"Coulson?"

"Yes?" Dazzed, he's almost not listening, he's just looking at her mouth, wanting more.

"I just saved your life," she points out. "Let me enjoy the reward."

She throws her arms around his neck and he protests no more.

 

**v.**

_The colors under your eyelids are quiet now, where they screamed until you couldn't hear your own voice. You will remember their song._

_You're not scared anymore but you used to be._

_There's nothing to be scared of here. You've seen the universe and it's not horror._

_It's beautiful. But you can't stay there._

_You have to live now._

_You will remember what you've seen here and some times you will feel it in her, when you are around her._

_You will remember what it felt like to be weak, now that she's given you strength._

_You will remember what it felt like to be in despair, now that she's given you hope._

_You will remember what it was like to be alone, now that she is here with you._

_Don't beg for death, not anymore._

_She's here._

_You are safe._

_You've always been safe._

_You have to live._

He wakes up to find Skye by his side in the lab, looking at him in a curious way. And he knows what waking up to Skye's face means, why he doesn't want anything else.

"Did I fall asleep?" Coulson asks.

She smiles. "Yeah, for like a really long time."

He can't tell how long a really long time is. But he doesn't feel tired anymore. He feels – healthy. He feels _whole_.

"I'm sorry," he says, sitting up.

He notices the ball of cotton pressed to her arm, matching his like a mirror.

"No, no," she shakes her head. "You looked relaxed. Like you were having a really nice dream."

"I was."

"About me?" she asks.

"You were in there, yes."

"Mm, good."

She smiles, wraps her hand around his fingers. The touch is familiar and yet he wonders if he'll ever get used to it, to her, to her in his life, shaping his life like this.

"How are you?" he asks.

"A bit dizzy. That was a lot of blood," she chuckles.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I was just think I'm glad I'm type O so I won't kill you in my attempt to save your life."

"I'm not sure I can say it's a coincidence," he says, reaching out to touch her hair. He doesn't believe in fate, but some days the luck of having found Skye seems a little too convenient.

"As long as it worked, I don't care."

"I think it worked," he tells her, pulling her to him so he can kiss his mouth.

The kiss feels warm like a welcome after a long time away from home, and it feels sharp like love.

It makes sense, that she's the one to save him from this. From decay, from insanity. It makes sense that it was inside her all the time. Of course they couldn't have done it if Simmons hadn't discovered it. But Coulson gets the metaphor, he doesn't need a strange dream or to know the shape of the universe. Skye was always going to be the one to save him, in the end.

 

+

 

Standing in his office, her arms wrapped around his chest, this shouldn't be an ordinary event for the Director of SHIELD and one of his junior agents but he seems to allow it more and more lately. Skye presses herself against it without doubt, his solidity, she likes how the back of his neck smells.

"How do you feel? Weird?" she asks.

She half fears he'd say weird, because it's the thing that frightens her inside herself, and now it's in him too. She meant to save him, and she fears the possibility that she's damned him after all.

"I feel fine," he says, which is not the answer to what she asked, but it's much better.

He touches his fingers against the back of her hand.

She holds him closer. Sometimes she just has to make sure he is here, and he is all right. To make sure this body of his she loves and knows intimately is not going to slip from between her hands. These last few months have been about this – holding on. Simmons says the treament worked, but it's going to take Skye a little longer to let go of her fears. She's so used to them.

"Stop worrying," Coulson tells her, brushing his thumb across her knuckle. "I'm okay now."

"Yeah, you're okay," she repeats, kissing the sensitive skin of his neck over and over again.

"But..."

"What?"

He disentangles himself from her embrace, turns around to see her face. Skye grabs his shirt around his middle, unwilling to let him go too far.

"I'm more alien than human now," he says.

"Well, welcome to the club." She notices his look. "Are you worried about what might happen now?"

"In a way," he says. "But I'm not _afraid_. As you said, we're on the same boat. That's enough for me."

"It's enough for me too," she agrees. "It always has been."

She wraps her arms around his waist, holding him to her. They are so close they could easily be kissing, but they wait, they linger like this, studying each other's faces. Skye just wants to look at his smile for a while, soft around the edges of his mouth.

The Director of SHIELD and his Agent shouldn't do this in his office, it shouldn't become something ordinary between them.

The Director of SHIELD and his Agent shouldn't, but only Coulson and Skye are here right now.


End file.
